


To See a Man about a Horse

by NocturnLily



Series: To See a Man about a Horse [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnLily/pseuds/NocturnLily
Summary: Micah’s horse is better company than him, to no one’s surprise. Got the idea from a recent dream and it was too good to pass up; rating of M for future chapters!





	To See a Man about a Horse

She had been greeted this way before, but never quite with such _gusto_.

In passing the hitching posts on the way to her horse, a nose had jutted out—suddenly, and with intent—that nearly knocked the woman sideways. She sputtered indignantly, only to find the offending thing nickering at her gently.

It was Baylock, absolutely _demanding_ attention. It drew a chuckle, and she cupped his chin to draw him in for a peck on the nose.

“Good morning~” She was answered with another nicker. “Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten—?”  


The woman fished out a few cubes of sugar from her messenger bag, which inspired an excited flapping of ears. Baylock extended his neck, eager to close the distance between himself and those _delightful treats_—

She drew back, tutting. He snorted, lips puttering as he tried again.

“Careful,” Kieran warned, watching bemusedly. “Don’t tease him too much, you know how he gets.”  


“You talkin’ ‘bout Baylock, or his rider?” she threw back, grinning.  


“Ho~h, I don’t want nothin’ to do with his rider.”  


The woman laughed, full-bellied and genuine, as she relented the sugary snacks. Baylock nosed her palm, lips smooshing and retracting once he secured the treats. Again he reached out, but his nose pushed on her cheek.

“Aw, you’re welcome, boy.”  


— — — — — — —

A few more times, on her way to and from camp, she was accosted by demands of any food she might have on her: carrots, oats, sugar—anything Baylock could persuade her to part with.

By now, Micah—ever watchful—had caught on to the woman’s spoiling of his horse. Any time either of them were fixing to leave camp, and she looked to be the last in procession, Baylock would wait dutifully in spite of the blond man’s prompting.

Being disobeyed? Because of a _woman_?

Infuriating. Un_acceptable_.

He kept his chin high and frown low; she never looked at him directly, but the woman knew those icy blues stared down and watched every move she made. Micah was never addressed, though, until after she was finished cooing over Baylock. He’d leave soon after, throwing some indignant, empty insult before spurring his steed quickly away from camp.

She’d returned before Micah did, dismounting and legs jiggling under her dress as she shuffled happily into camp. Rejoining the women—they all sat under one of the cart tents, reading and socializing—she shared her most recent spoils from a number of unlucky, unattended households. Many ‘Ooo’s and giggles were shared as celebratory drinks were passed around. During the show-and-tell, a few extra apples rolled from the woman’s bag—it earned her a scoff from Karen.

“Those for your new pet, y/n?”  


Another round of giggles.

“You got a problem with me treating the horses now and then?” she shot back. The tone was playful, but a dangerous undercurrent ran in hopes of dissuading any further scrutiny. Alas, no such luck.  


“Oho, so _defensive_,” the blonde continued. “I wonder what a _rat_—” the word was spat derisively. “—needs a horse for, anyway, when he can just _scurry_ off whenever he likes.”  


The woman found herself inexplicably prickled at the ribbing, feeling her ears going hot upon a fresh round of hoots and jeers. She only rolled her eyes, however, unwilling to fall any further into this trap. In the haze of booze and liquor, the harassment was redirected easily enough, but it was inevitably revived again when the man in question returned.

“Go on, go see your beau!” Mary was the offending party this time, laughing wildly when the woman yanked her bag by the strap and stood. “There she goes!”  


Indeed, she stormed off to the entrance of camp, the whistle and song of birds in the trees drowned by the blood pumping in her ears. Micah had only one foot down when the woman took Baylock’s reins, making him hop and fluster angrily before falling hard on his back. There was an eruption of laughter, now, and not just from the women, as he collected his hat and flung a curse. Unable to recover from such a wildly embarrassing scene, he stormed around the perimeter of the camp instead of cutting straight through; any who were feeling inclined to tease him for it were met with a fiercely snapping comeback.

Angrily, wordlessly, she fed the white-faced horse the apples she’d picked on her venture that day. Baylock ate them slowly, carefully, as Kieran approached.

“Hey, you okay?”  


“‘m fine.”  


“….you sure?”  


“Yeah, I just—” There was a large nose in her face again, and she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. “—I just need to cool off, I guess.”  


“No better place to do that than here, I suppose.”  


With that the O’Driscoll defector went back to his duties, leaving the pair to be in silence. The sun was halfway through its descent behind the horizon, washing everything in pinks and oranges. As soon as Baylock was finished with his treats, she returned wordlessly to her tent and threw the flaps down. From across the camp, Micah watched her from beneath the wide brim of his hat.

_ Damnable woman. _


End file.
